A Child Amoung Them
by Russian Wolf 666
Summary: For the first time a child has arrived at Arkham and the Rogue Gallery has taken an interest.But after a few years Batman also takes notice and seperates the family.This sets a series of events in motion including the unvieling of Gothem's newest threat.You don't mess with family. Constructive critisism welcome and rating may change
1. Chapter 1

The doors to the battered rec room flew open and hit the walls with a clattering racket. Everyone present looked up with looks ranging from terror to mild curiosity, including the Rogue Gallery. At least those that were present which included the Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Riddler, Two Face, Scarecrow, the Mad Hatter, and Scarface. In marched two burly guards who kept the guns pointing at a slightly downward angle with the target being the small child before them. His hair was a blue black in color and was a little long for a boy's, reaching a little passed his shoulders. His eyes were an almost yellow green and darted around the room in terror. The Arkham uniform was huge on him. The pants had been badly altered by someone who seemed too frustrated to care and the jagged edges dragged on the floor, occasionally tripping the boy. The shirt had received no such treatment and hung off his shoulders, the sleeves rolled up several times to reveal the sickly thin and pale wrists. It was obvious that no set of cuffs had fit so the limbs were bound with what looked like some sort of fishing wire wrapped in duct tape. He looked around the room nervously, swallowing a couple times before he turned to face the guards and raised his hands with expectant look. The guards simply looked down in disgust before shoving the child forward with the barrels of their guns. The boy landed in an untidy heap and looked up with questioning eyes at the retreating guards.

Pam Isley, better known to most as Poison Ivy, stood angrily and, without a word to the unspoken questions of her fellow Rogues, made her way over to the child. She wasn't quite sure why; but her maternal instincts had flared at the sight of the boy. Maybe it was how thin and frail he looked. Maybe it was the uncertain and near terrified way in which he looked around. Maybe it was just the fact that he looked far too young to belong in the boring grey uniform and locked away. Whatever had moved her normally unshakable heart was the reason that she now knelt before the boy and smiled her warmest.

"You alright honey?" He looked up cautiously and Pam took note that his eyes were not in fact yellow. Instead they were a very interesting forest green with shots and streaks of gold.

"Yes pretty lady." She laughed softly and nodded in delight as Jervis seemed to catch the caring bug too. He sauntered over and crouched down at the boy's side. He smiled brightly at the boy's curious gaze and tipped his large top hat.

"It's a pleasure to meet you my dear boy. My name is Jervis and this lovely woman in Pam." The boy smiled shyly and bit softly on his lower lip.

"I'm Thorn." Jervis clapped his hands together in delight.

"A charming name! Now tell me Thorn, how old are you?" Thorn held up four thin and crooked fingers. To the two Rogues, it looked as if they had healed horribly wrong after being snapped. Jervis did his best to hide his worry behind his usual wide smile. "A delightful age, full of mischief and games." Pam then scooped the boy up into her arms and carried her back to the couch and cluster of chairs that the other Rogues remained still watching the scene. Even Jonathon's gaze had been dragged from the interrupted chess game that rested on the aging end table. Pam reclaimed the chair she had abandoned and set Thorn on her lap. Upon meeting the curious gazes of the other Rogues, he immediately cowered backwards.

"No need to be afraid honey; I just brought you over to meet the rest of the family." At this, Joker snorted loudly and received a sharp glare from Pam. "Now Thorn, that's Joker. I would suggest only being around him when he's in a good mood. Beside him is Harley." The bubbly blond smiled and waved before coming up to tickle him under the chin.

"Hi Thorn! You and me are going to be best buddies!" He nodded eagerly and hugged her around the waist. Once she had sat back down, Pam drew Thorn's focus to Harley's right.

"You already know Jervis and the man beside him is Edward. He loves riddles and puzzles." Edward smirked and reached out a hand to ruffle Thorn's hair, which Pam noticed, was full of mats and looked in need of a wash. "Now beside us is Jonathon but you'd best call him Professor Crane for right now and next to him is Harvey." Both men nodded their greetings to the boy, neither being the type for many words when unnecessary. Seeming to gain more confidence, Thorn slipped off Pam's lap and went around the circle, proclaiming 'hug' and then proceeding to do just that. Even Joker received a hug though mainly because he was still in a straightjacket due to his last escape. Jervis the scooped him up and sat the boy on his knees facing him.

"Now Thorn, I need to ask you a question, ok?" Thorn nodded, his fingers reaching out to fiddle with the front of Jervis's uniform. "Do you know why you were brought here?"

"Well see, mommy wasn't happy when daddy went on a trip with his skelecatary."

"Secretary." Jonathon corrected. Thorn smiled over his shoulder.

"Yeah that. He was gone for a really long time and then he phoned mommy and they got in a huge fight on the phone. Mommy said lots of bad words and didn't money in the bad words jar." He pouted a bit at the seeming unfairness. "Then mommy stopped getting out of her pajamas and brushing her hair. She just sat on the couch so I thought she was sad. So I turned cartoons and brought her toys to play with and furry friends to hug. I got her candy and cookies but she didn't seem to like that. Oh before I forget, I had a tiny little sister. Her name was Mel. One day I started to give Mel a bath but after I turned off the water I remembered that I didn't have any bath toys for her, so I went into her room to get some. When I came, mommy was in the room and holding Mel under the water. I went over and tugged on her sleeve. I tried to tell her that Mel was not a fish. Mel stopped moving after a little while and then mommy said that I shouldn't have touched her because my hands were filthy. Then she took me over to the sink and turned on the water really hot. She told me that if I wanted to touch her then I had to have clean hands first but the water was too hot and it hurt. So she said if I wouldn't have clean hands then I wouldn't have any hands and she broke them and all my fingers. I cried a lot but it hurt so much. Then I heard mommy on the phone. She said that I killed Mel and was attacking her. Later in the big room she told the guy with the funny white hair that my hands had been broken when she tried to lock me in the bathroom because she was scared. So here I am. I think they believed her because Miss Ran Door is her sister." Harley giggled.

"You mean Van Dor?" He nodded.

"Yeah but I like Ran Door more though."


	2. Chapter 2

**Before I forget again:**

**I do not own anything but the plot for this fanfic and Thorn**

**Thanks to all our lovely reviewers! We love you so much! Special cookie to the one that spots the Animaniacs tie in and make sure to read the note at the bottom for audience participation marks!**

Thorn sat up slowly and ran his hands over his face before rumpling his bed head even more. The small cot hurt his back but he was thankful that the staff didn't see him as a threat, which led to not nearly so heightened security as the rest of his new family. He was initially supposed to be housed in A block with those that had simply lost the ability to function within normal society, but after an uproar among the permanent residents of C block, he had been given a coat at the end of the hall where he would be chained to the post every night. It was unconventional to say the least and many had argued against it. Obviously they had made _so_ much progress. Thorn straightened out his hair as best he could since no mirrors were allowed especially in C block. Today would be his first day of school. The asylum strictly believed that education had to be kept up among those that still required it in order for a proper reunion with society. If a ten year old was admitted and it took five years for him to be cured, then upon release he would be more likely to have a relapse if his education was below that of his peers. So he was headed to class with two other inmates: a boy who was fifteen and a girl who was fourteen. Both had a strange illness that affected their social and learning skills. (**Author's note here! For those of you wondering, it's autism that they're talking about. My half-brother has it and around the time that this was being shown, no one knew what autism was**) He yawned as the two unnamed guards, they all acted the same anyway, marched him past the cells of his new family. Edward was the only one that seemed to take alarm at the earlier than normal departure.

"Hey kiddo, where are you going?" Thorn stopped, which caused the guards to grumble, and approached Edward's cell.

"I'm going to school today. They apparently finally replaced the teacher." Edward's nose wrinkled in distaste causing the wide grin on Thorn's face to falter.

"What can these idiots teach you? You'd be far better off with me for a teacher." Across the hall, Jonathon snorted behind his book.

"You? That would be an utter disaster. The last thing we all need is another riddle spouting moron." He ignored Edward's furious gaze and sputtered profanities that were thankfully too muddled for Thorn to make sense of. "Never mind him child, off you go to your class. You can tell me all about it during lunch. I'll set all the facts straight then." Edward smirked at his chance for vengeance.

"That's right kiddo, he'll teach you all about how to do nothing but recite nursery rhythms." Jonathon's book hit the floor but Thorn was out the door before the fight could continue, bringing with it, the real foul language.

Thorn fiddled with the edge of his shirt and tried to ignore the screeching that the chalk made on the blackboard. It was a simple, old one on wheels since their classroom was really an old office in the basement. His fingers were going numb but he had figured out pretty quickly that asking for the heat to be turned on would result in a lecture. Finally the teacher finished writing down the rules for the class. It just happened to take up half the blackboard.

"Let me warn you, that I will tolerate no foolishness. Are we clear?" Thorn smirked. He simply couldn't help it since she had walked so nicely into the set up.

"No we're opaque." She turned her sharp glare on him. Somehow even with the old librarian glasses, it still looked ferocious. He briefly contemplated why he should be afraid of an aging woman with a brown rat's nest of a bun for hair and dressed in an off purple, flower pattern dress. She stood right in front of his desk, hands on her wide hips.

"Since you seem so eager to participate, what can you tell me about the great scientists of the eighteenth century?" Thorn smiled.

"They're all dead." He slid his index finger across his throat.

"No no no." Her hands fluttered in front of his face like a trapped wasp.

"Alright they're all living." He smiled, hoping to appease her.

"No no no." Propping his head up on his hand, Thorn looked toward the ceiling.

"Well now we're getting into philosophy." He looked up at her furious eyes in confusion as she wrote a thick black 'F' on his page in marker.

"Have an adult sign that you little hooligan and I want it back tomorrow along with a paragraph on why you got it."

"But I don't under-"

"QUIET!" Thorn jumped. Sure even in the single day he had lived in C block there had been shouting but none directed at him. He looked down at his page and sighed, they were not going to be happy with him.

**Yeesh, I really don't like her. Anyway, we had a little argument about what kind of reactions would come from who that would make our readers happy. Well we could ask so here it is. I am asking any reviewers to describe the reaction of at least one of the Rogue Gallery. You don't have to but then don't freak out if your favorite character doesn't act the way you want them to.**

**P.S. Yes these will be quite often in this fic**

**R.W.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yay new chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, followed, and so forth.**

Pam looked worriedly down at the mass of black hair that was resting against the surface of the lunch table and sniffing occasionally.

"Thorn, honey, tell us what happened." There was a series of mumbles before a crumpled piece of paper was shoved onto the table. It was marred by a thick black 'F' which was quickly concealed under the tape recording of the daily lesson. Jervis snatched the player before anyone else could grab it and inspected it.

"This could be just what I need to-" He stopped, noticing the irritated expressions of the others. "Sorry." He put the player back on the table and pressed the play button. The recording wasn't very loud or high quality but it wasn't impossible to make out what was said. After the recording finished, the silence was filled by the static and electronic whirl of the gears turning. This was quickly broken by giggles that started towards the end of the table and soon broke out into outright shrieks of laughter. Harley clenched her sides as tears streamed down her smiling face and the Joker twisted in the confines of his straight jacket while his all too familiar laugh filled the room. Shaking his head, the clown prince of crime looked at the boy with as close to fondness as he could muster.

"I think I'm starting to like you kid." Thorn peaked out from the shelter of his folded arms.

"You aren't mad?" Harvey sighed and pulled Thorn into an upright position.

"Why should we be?" He grabbed one of the cheap, flimsy, paper napkins off the table and gently wiped Thorn's face dry. He then handed Thorn the napkin to blow his nose. "There's no reason to cry. You let us handle her. What did you learn while you were there?" Thorn tossed the napkin into the garbage pail that was set up at every post in the cafeteria and looked thoughtful for a minute. In order to distract herself from storming up to this woman and having her plants strangle the old hag, Pam pulled Thorn's plate of food closer to her and began to pick out the parts that were eatable.

"We really didn't learn anything, come to think of it. She mostly just complained about us and the job for three hours; though she did go over the 'ABC's several times, it felt a little insulting." Edward's silverware dropped from his hand and clattered onto the table. Jonathon slowly lowered his fork to the table with an air of visible restraint.

"And so it should." The self-appointed master of fear pulled out a thin, crème folder. "They don't have much on you since you haven't been here long but they did test your IQ. At your current age, being age 4 for those of you that missed it," Edward ignored the glance shot his way, "Your IQ is testing around the same as a child in their seventh year of formal education." The rest simply stared at the little boy in their midst. "We've got ourselves a little protégé, one that just might take down Batman's little waif." Pam pulled over the file.

"You got this from Dr. Leland?" Jonathon nodded.

"I'll slip it back for you since I have therapy next. Where did the tap player come from though?" Pam turned her attention to Thorn, who fidgeted slightly.

"I kinda…maybe…sorta…stole it." The table erupted into laughter.

Miss. Flameel pulled the last stack of homework towards her. If by homework one meant, a few scribbles that a number of the adolescent population of Arkham was hoping to pass off as homework. The ones that she hated the most were the ones that made it appear as though they had put effort into the assignment but, when she began reading it, she discovered that it was nothing but pointless drivel. Dr. Leland had asked her to stay later than normal due to the fact that some parents had requested to discuss their child's progress, so here she was going over the worst work she had ever seen at eight o'clock in the evening. She had just marked the 'What I Want to Do with My Life after Arkham' papers from her morning class. The first two were what she had expected; short, choppy, and confusing sentences that were shoved together in a parody of a paragraph. Thorn's had gotten a large red 'F' over it after the first sentence.

The door opened as the clock struck eight thirty. Miss. Flameel stood and straightened out her dress. The hallway outside the door was dark due to the late hour but the light glinted off something that was being tossed into the air.

"Y-you wanted to uh discuss the progress of your child? Mr.?" The figure stepped into the room and Miss. Flameel's hand shot to her mouth as she stepped back.

"Dent and yes, we need to have a little talk about Thorn teach." Harley walked up beside him, her smile widening as her eyes narrowed.

"See we in the Rogue Gallery don't like how you're treating our boy and your sense of humor is seriously lacking." Harvey smirked and continued to toss the coin without concern.

"You got a fifty fifty chance. Heads you surrender his education over to us willingly and remove yourself from anything concerning him. Tails, you get a lead slug between the eyes." The coin was tossed up and was dropped onto the back of Harley's hand. "Too bad." The gunshot was only slightly muffled and only then did the guards notice that one of Harvey's hand guns had been taken from the storage room.

Jervis closed his copy of 'Alice in Wonderland' and pulled the thin covers up to Thorn's chin.

"But Jervis, how will they get Miss. Flameel to listen to them?" Jervis smiled, something dark glinting in his deep blue eyes.

"We have our ways, don't you worry about that. Now, no more questions. It's time for little boys to be asleep." He got up from where he had perched on the cot and was escorted back to his cell. "Twinkle twinkle little bat, how I wonder what you're at." Thorn was asleep before Harvey and Harley were escorted to solitary.


	4. Chapter 4

**I know that it's short and that I've been gone for a long time but I do have a good reason, at least to me, and because you have all been so loyal and patient to this and my other stories, I will tell you. So this year is my first year of college (^_^) and I was so excited. I took on extra hours at work and planned out how everything was going to go with my best friends. Well one of them was and is still in a relationship. All well and normal right? Well me and her boyfriend don't like each other but we try to keep hostility to a minimum when she's around. One night we all went out with some other girls and they left midway through the party. Me and another girl made a getting a room joke and then forgot about them. Well that joke got back to her, blown way out of proportion, and she gave everyone the silent treatment online and refused to see us in person. To make the rest of the story shorter, she finally told me what she was mad about and then blew up once I asked the others if anyone said anything insulting about her and her boyfriend. She refused to accept online apologies but also refused to talk to any of us in person, which she said is what we should have done instead of causing all this drama. In short I wanted to kill her and it was reflected in anything I tried to write. Not a week later I find out that the best friend that I got rid of for talking shit about me never said anything that the girl mentioned above told me she did, so I spent re-patching that. We're now besties again and are going to see Cesar Millan together this November. I feel like a windbag so on with the story **

Jonathon looked over the head of black hair to observe what the boy had written so far about the recent lesson on phobias. While the vocabulary was simplistic, at least to him, the facts were more or less in order. Sitting down on the edge of his cot, he laced his fingertips together and peered over them. After a few minutes, he grew tired of the mindless scratch of the pencil.

"Thorn." The boy raised his head in response to his name and the scratching ceased. "Why are most phobias developed in childhood?"

"Um, because," his gaze drifted slightly to the right. "Um, we learn by watching our parents to see what is considered a danger to us," Jonathon nodded. "And, um," Jonathon's gaze narrowed slightly.

"Too many 'um's" Thorn cheeks reddened slightly.

"Sorry. And by our experiences with things." He looked at Jonathon's face for signs of approval.

"Hmm, a little simplistic but it will do for now, I suppose." Thorn beamed, because from Jonathon, even that meant a lot.

Thorn glared at the small multi-coloured cube before him. Edward had met him for the daily lesson but, instead of his normal hour long lecture, he had given Thorn the cube, the coloured squares already all out of alignment, and told him that he could take as long as he liked to fix it. Thorn's glare deepened, it had already been a half an hour. Edward peered over the edge of the crossword puzzle, which he had solved twenty minutes ago, from his place amidst the rest of the gallery with a smile.

"You're not cute." The cube, of course, didn't respond. "Stupid cube with its stupid colours." Silence yet again from the cube. "Stop mocking me!"

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness." Thorn twisted his head around to look up at Jervis. The hatter took a seat beside Thorn and smiled.

"I'm not talking to myself Jervis, the stupid cube won't cooperate." Jervis's smile widened and he reached for the offending object. A black sharpie sliding out of his sleeve was unnoticed by Thorn.

"Hmm don't worry you'll get it. There's just a little trick to it." Thorn nodded, his face a mask of acceptance, and took back the cube. Jervis patted him gently on the shoulder before standing and making his way over to the other Rogues.

"A cruel trick Edward." The Riddler glanced up and his smile grew.

"Whatever do you mean, Jervis?" Jervis calmly took his normal spot across from Jonathon with the old chessboard between them.

"Coloring over the squares so that they could never match up and then asking Thorn to solve it." Several disapproving looks were sent towards Edward.

"Now now Hatter, no one ever said that learning was easy." Whatever Edward was going to say next was silenced by Thorn walking up to him and slamming the cube down on the table. He then handed the black marker to Jervis before joining Harley on the couch to watch TV. The others laughed as Edward gapped at the puzzle with every single square colored black.

"B-but that's cheating!" He sputtered. The other Rogues just laughed harder and Edward could only sit back in his chair and pout.


	5. Chapter 5

Even before the clock had struck 5 pm, Arkham was already a mass of activity because the mayor, and more importantly the Batman, were due to visit that evening and everything had to be perfect. Thorn shifted sleepily on his cot, trying to find a comfortable position that he could happily fall back to sleep in. His usual nap had been delayed due to all the prep work and had resulted in a cranky student for the Rogues. After a rather violent tantrum, which ended in an all-out screaming match between Thorn and one of the guards, the staff reluctantly agreed that the child did need a short rest before any of the guests arrived. The fun part had then been getting the now furious child to cooperate. A guard had dragged him, literally kicking and screaming, down the hall to his cot. After tossing him on the hard surface, and realizing that the child wasn't going to give up easily, the guard had pinned the boy down. Thorn had thrashed violently, screaming, and tried to bite any flesh within his reach. Jonathon had been the only Rogue that hadn't been busy with some work that the inmates were ordered to do so he was led to where this storm was raging. Thinking back on it, most of the Rogues would find it quite funny. The guard was shooed away and, upon seeing Jonathon, Thorn quieted. Jonathon had delivered a rather commanding look and tucked Thorn back in before producing the toy now in the child's arms.

His arm sluggishly reached out for the stuffed wolf that Jonathon had somehow obtained for him and pulled it closer to his chest. He was just about to cross the line from light sleep to deep, completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere as the inmates were led back to their cells, when he was rudely jolted awake by the doors slamming open. He whined slightly and tried to burrow deeper into the lumpy mound that was his pillow. The loud footsteps and raised voices did little to help his plans so finally admitting defeat he stumbled off the cot, a minute too late realizing that he had been chained there again. Huffing in aggravation, he walked over to the only cell within his reach which happened to belong to the Joker.

"What's going on?" Joker looked up from the playing cards that covered the small table within his cell, slightly surprised at the arrival of the child though no outward sign displayed it. Every one of the other Rogues, even Harley, had encouraged Thorn to stay away from the Joker when not in the presence of one of the others. Joker wasn't an idiot, he knew why they all worried so much and, if he was honest, he had never given them any reason not be. Even he knew that his temper was more often than not completely out of line but, in some part of his mind that had been near death, he had grown fond of the child. When he first discovered the line of thought, he had been baffled and utterly infuriated. He, the great Clown Prince of Crime, was going soft in the face of some pathetic little wretch. He had watched with distain, over the course of the month, as his fellow Rogues, even Scarecrow the great God of Fear, had softened to the boy. The sight was sickening and made Joker even more determined to remain harsh and jagged. Though over time, he did have to admit that the child had some redeeming features. The most prominent being his sense of humor, which, in Joker's opinion, still needed a bit of tweaking but it was there. So he as well had surrendered to the, slightly deranged, parental feelings and began participating in the education that would make Thorn into the perfect villain.

"Old Batsy is coming to visit along with that overweight moron of a mayor." Thorn's eyes widened.

"The Batman is coming here?" A large dark shadow fell over Thorn.

"Indeed." Thorn spun around with a frightened squeak. The rest of the Rogues hurried to the front of their cells, believing that Joker was to blame, only to see the looming figure of the dark crusader towering over a cowering Thorn. The uproar was loud and instantaneous.

"You get away from him, you lousy scum sucking creep!"

"Back off Bat!"

"You leave my baby alone!"

"Off with his head!"

"You shall face a nightmare far greater than anything you have ever experienced if you are not ten feet away from him in the next few seconds!"

"Riddle me this Batman, how long will it take them to identify your body when were done with you?!" All sound was extinguished as Joker's high pitched laugh joined the mix. Without anyone realizing, Joker had moved from his cot to behind Thorn.

"Might want to back up a bit Batsy, otherwise things could get a little…messy." With that, the Joker slammed a knife that he had gotten from who knew where into the glass wall between them. A slight jerk of his head told Thorn to run to Harvey. Being as small as he was Thorn could easily slip around the Batman and hurried towards Harvey. It would be a stretch, a rather painful one, and the chain would be pulled to its absolute limit but Thorn much preferred to be close to a member of the odd little family. He gasped as the chain, along with his feet, was yanked out from under him. The gasp turned into a harsh cough as all the air was forced from his lungs as his chest met the cold unrelenting floor. He rolled onto his side, wheezing and clenching the wolf, and tried to get back up. A sharp pain in his ankle brought him back down to the floor. The toy was placed on the floor as he sat up and Thorn grasped his ankle tightly in a childish attempt to make the pain stop even as it made tears prick at his eyes.

"Hurts." With that simple, pitiful whimper the noise in the hall suddenly ceased leaving a deadly quiet in its wake. Six pairs of eyes focused from behind their prison doors on Thorn's ankle which had swollen to double the size. Harley's small hand pressed against the glass and her eyes widened in disbelief.

"You hurt him." The simple statement carried with it so much weight as the Rogues turned their attention back to Batman with a cold, merciless, and deadly rage. The noise kicked back up with a volume never seen before as Batman studied the child. True whenever he came, he received death threats but somehow these seemed more real and came with a deeper purpose. That purpose sat before him nursing what might very be a broken ankle. He turned to Dr. Arkham and nodded towards Thorn.

"I'm taking him with me. The Rogues are too much of a bad influence on him." Dr. Arkham looked startled and the volume in the hall increased with rage at the suggestion.

"Why not simply move him to another block?" Batman shook his head.

"They have an interest in him and they never let things they're interested in go." Dr. Arkham nodded after a minute's debate and unlocked the shackle around the boy's swollen ankle. Despite the injury, as soon as he was free Thorn made a mad dash to Harvey's cell. A gloved hand closed on his arm before he could reach the former district attorney and hauled him up into the muscular arms. As he walked, Batman wrestled the wolf out of Thorn's grasp and tossed it to the ground, right in front of Jonathon's cell. Thorn's eyes met each of the Rogues as he was carried down the hall.

"Help! Please help! I don't want to leave! Please!" The door closed on the screaming inmates that promised, death, destruction, and to find Thorn no matter what the cost.


	6. Chapter 6

**I love you all for being so patient. Finally rode out the second wave of midterms and seeing as I have about a week before prepping for finals, I figured I'd reward both myself and all of you with this update. That and I was threatened with Chuck Norris…low blow. My creativity has been locked away these past few weeks so I had to let it out. Why does school torture me so? I'm a goddamn film/art student, why the hell do I need biology?! *rants and raves***

**Riddler: On with the story.**

**Hey I wasn't finished Edward, I mmph-**

**Riddler: Thank you Jin**

**Jin: Tis no problem there but I be headin' out fer the tournament soon so be best to be wrappin' this up. Though I think I might be stayin' fer this since I be waitn' so long fer it. Course I wouldn't mind so much if'n it weren't fer the ears. See they're all pointy up and wigglin' unlike they were before. Be gettin' that way when I'm happy or excited and I haven't been either in a very long time. **

**Riddler: Well ok let's get on with it.**

**Hold it boys. We have to do this right *holds up signs***

**Riddler: We do not own Batman: the Animated Series or Yu Yu Hakusho**

**Jin: We don't even be ownin' ourselves**

**Riddler: The only character that is owned by RW is Thorn**

**Now that none of us are getting sued let's go **

Thorn frowned in his sleep. It was quiet, too quiet. In just the little while that he had taken up residence in C block he had come to realize certain patterns, one of them being that no matter what time of night or day it was, the hallway was never quiet. There was always some sort of noise and the silence didn't feel right. A tightness around his ankle announced that he had tangled his foot in the chain again but he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes and deal with it. There was a stiff feeling all along his cheeks and his head, especially around his eyes, hurt. He winced as, off to his left, a door opened. His mind froze. A door opened, not a cell, an actual hardwood door. The memories swarmed his senses with a vengeance for his childish hope. He wasn't in the asylum anymore. He had been taken away from his family.

He felt rather than saw the person who had entered the room sit down on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped with the weight and Thorn flinched when he felt the rough and slightly cold hand brush his hair away from his face. That hand wasn't right. It wasn't callused from work like Jonathon or Jervis. It wasn't heavily scarred like Harvey or Joker. It wasn't warm and soft like Pam or Harley. It was just wrong. He opened his eyes to glare at this person though he didn't quite know what their crime had been. Scratch that, somewhere in his gut he knew that this person was helping that giant flying rodent to keep him from his family. He was slightly shocked by who he saw looking back at him. He knew this man, nearly everyone did. Black hair styled to perfection, dark brown eyes set on either side of a slightly pointed nose and under a broad forehead. His jaw was strong and clean shaven and slight hints of cologne invaded Thorn's nose. He was in the custody of none other than Bruce Wayne. His scowl deepened and he quickly backed away from the men, snarling like a cornered dog. The look that passed over Bruce's face was concerned but not really surprised. To the untrained eye, it looked like a genuine expression of pity and sorrow for the poor child but resignation that he was bound to behave this way due to his months within Arkham. Thorn immediately hated it. It was fake, it was condescending, and it was meant to hurt. Another snarl from Thorn saw Bruce out of the room, leaving behind the tray on which Thorn's breakfast lay. The boy just scoffed at it, refusing to touch even the slightest morsel. He wouldn't be staying long.

xxx

Edward Nigma, better known to most as the Riddler, was marched back down the halls of Arkham after his latest escape. As soon as he entered C block, the faces of his fellow rogues looked up, eyes hopeful and ears desperate to hear the good news. Pam pressed her hands nervously to her chest; Harley fiddled and occasionally chewed on the edge of one of her corn blond pigtails. Harvey flipped his coin at double the speed and frequency than normal. Joker shuffled his deck of cards for what must have been the tenth time. Jonathon's leg bounced as he muttered nursery rhythms in a steady string for almost an hour and Jervis, whose arm was still in a sling after his encounter with the Batman during his own escape, was on chapter eight on his recitation of 'Alice in Wonderland'. Upon meeting the eyes of his fellow rogues, Edward's shoulders slumped and he shook his head sadly. He had not found Thorn either. It was almost like a sick and twisted game now. One of them would escape, cause enough mayhem to avoid suspicion, and attempt to find Thorn before the Bat found them. All eyes fell on Jonathon and he gave the faintest inkling of a nod. It was his turn and, as he turned to his bed and caught sight of the stuffed wolf he had given Thorn, he vowed that he would not return without the boy. A few hours later an alarm would sound, signalling another break out and Scarecrow's cell would be found empty.

Jonathon sprinted until he could no longer hear the obnoxious alarm but still kept a swift pace. He tried to keep to back alleys, only venturing out if he absolutely had to. He finally slowed to a stop in front of the city orphanage, breathing coming in hard pants. While Pam had already checked the orphanage, Jonathon knew that unless the public was extremely enthused about something, the system tended to move very slowly. It very well could have taken the entire month that Thorn was gone just to have his files sent over so Jonathon carefully picked the lock and slipped inside. He searched every single scrap of paper within the office, looking for anything that had Thorn's name on it. Nothing did. Cursing as he left the building, Jonathon pulled his stolen coat around him tightly as the skies opened up and let down buckets of rain.

"Oranges and Lemons say the bells of St. Clement's." Jonathon wandered down the street, wracking his brain for places that Thorn could be.

"You owe me five farthings say the bells of St. Martin's." Bruce looked up from his plate at the dinner table to stare at the child he had finally forced downstairs. Thorn didn't look at him, instead seemingly fascinated with the storm outside.

"When will you pay me? Say the bells of Old Bailey." Jonathon searched everywhere he could hope to find any public announcements. The library, city hall, he had even snuck into the police station. None of them had any information.

"When I am rich say the bells of Shoreditch." For some reason he couldn't put his finger on, Bruce didn't like that poem. It could have just been his mind playing tricks on him, but, for a second, Thorn sounded eerily like Scarecrow. Then again, Bruce had noticed a few other things that unnerved him about the boy. He had a way of staring at something as if he was looking right through it, almost like Jervis Tetch. The sole time he had heard the boy laugh, it possessed the hyena like sound of the Joker. His mischievous yet hateful smile was a near perfect mimic of Harley Quinn. He could have gone on but for some reason he really just wanted to shut the kid up.

"When will that be? Say the bells of Stepney." Jonathon shook the rain water out of his already soaked ginger hair and trudged on. If nothing else he could find a place to rest for the night where he could also mix up his fear toxins. Proper questioning could be accomplished then. He smiled, spotting one of the many abandoned apartment buildings within the Narrows.

"I do not know says the great bell of Bow." Thorn's head whipped to the side as Bruce delivered a brutal backhand, snapping just as quickly to the other side as that cheek was assaulted. Back and forth it went until Thorn was sure that his neck was going to snap. For some reason that Thorn didn't know, he began to laugh. Quietly at first but it quickly built up to barks and shrieks of laughter.

"Here comes a candle to light you to bed." Jonathon tried to get comfortable on the hold dusty mattress. Before drifting off into a light sleep, he made a brief prayer, his first in years, that Thorn was alright.

"And here comes a chopper to chop off your head!" Bruce couldn't take it anymore. That laugh cut through his ears. Grabbing Thorn's shirt collar, he slammed the boy back into the wall. The laughter stopped as he fell limp to the ground. _'I can't…I can't do it. I can't survive here. I need to get home. I can't deal with him.' _Thorn's thoughts swam as his vision blackened and he began to drift off.

_'Then let me take it from here.'_ Thorn didn't recognize the softer sounding voice.

_'Who are you?_' The voice laughed softly.

_'A friend I suppose.'_

_'Oh, ok.'_ Thorn felt himself drift deeper into sleep as the separate consciousness slipped into the forefront and locked the boy away in the farthest reaches of his- now their- mind.


	7. Chapter 7

**Yay passed all my finals! Thanks for all the well wishes my lovely reviewers. Well here it is. If you guys like this chapter I will be so happy. I do not think it's the best but to be honest I was at a loss of exactly where I wanted to take this chapter. This was the only idea I could write for without having to force it. Keep in mind this was also written between 2 and 4 am. Constructive criticism welcome but no flames please. **

The bell that signalled the end of the school day sounded shrilly signaling a wave of students to rush from their classrooms in a frenzy to get out the doors of the buildings. With previously peaceful hallways were quickly packed and fighting to contain the sounds of hurried sneakers, the roll of skateboards, slamming lockers, and of course, the hundreds of voices fighting to be heard over one another. The chaos never lasted long and within the span of a few minutes, the hallways had been left to house only a few lone stragglers, among them a boy with dull, faded black hair and hazel eyes. He was average height but a little more muscular than the everyday 15 year old boy. His clothes were a simple long sleeved shirt and jeans and he walked with his head down and music blasting in his ears. His grades were average and he kept quiet and too himself. Everything about him screamed forgettable. He hauled his backpack up further on his shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets as he headed out the doors and into the light rain. He didn't notice the hyper active blond until she had yanked the headphones from his ears and stood, glaring, in front of him.

"Earth to Derek Wayne, this is your soon to be former best friend. I've been screaming at you to wait for me for almost a block." He blinked rapidly, briefly seeing her baby blue eyes surrounded by a black mask and her blond pigtails encased in a black and red clown hat. For a few seconds she looked the picture of a…harlequin. Then he blinked and she was back. Her eyes the same boring mid-afternoon sky blue that everyone seemed to possess and her hair the same dirty-blond-almost-brown colour it had been since fifth grade. He shook his head to rid himself of the annoying tingling feeling that happened whenever he saw something like that and hurried to smile.

"Sorry Steph I'm just not feeling that great." She eyed him suspiciously before letting out an irritated noise and started to walk away.

"Whatever just come on." They walked mostly in silence, or Derek did. Stephanie chatted non- stop about whatever came to mind and Derek pretended to listen. It was a friendship based entirely on social status. Neither of them had the same interests or even really liked each other. The only thing they really had in common was that they came from wealthy families and one of the many unspoken rules of the upper class was to have friends in the upper class. When they reached the entrance to the Wayne estate he merely gave her a polite smile and a quiet goodbye.

The house was quiet which didn't really come as a surprise to Derek. His father figure, Bruce Wayne, was rarely present though that had slowly begun to change. Ever since the new head of security had been put in place at Arkham. '_Home_' He looked around wildly for the person that had spoken but found no one. The whispered voice sounded familiar but he knew that he had never met someone who would refer to that mad house as home. Derek pressed his lips into a straight line as he entered the kitchen and robotically made himself a sandwich to compensate for his missed lunch. Something seemed off to him. Not in the way that something was missing but he felt almost…worried. There hadn't been a breakout since the man was put in charge and it was, for some reason, unnerving. He tried to shake the feeling as he poured a large glass of orange juice and carried his meal up to his room, snatching the daily paper along the way.

The walls of his room had been covered with the achievements that he had done in the eleven years that he had been in Bruce's custody. A place had already been cleared and a frame bought for when he received his diploma in a few months, three years ahead of his age group. It didn't bring him any joy though, all the trophies and awards. They just felt hollow. He found himself staring at the list of rules that Bruce had him sign when he was younger. Some were standard like 'I will take responsibility for my actions' and 'I will use appropriate language' but some others were simply bizarre. He was not allowed to garden or study plants in any way. He was forbidden from engaging in riddle games or jokes. Solving anything with a coin toss was frowned upon. He was never to read Alice in Wonderland and he was forbidden to enroll in the school's intro to psychology course. The punishments were like the rules. Some were normal enough but others just seemed extreme. If he swore, his mouth was washed out with soap. Acting like a child could result in: loss of privileges, a time-out, or a trip over Bruce's knee depending on the severity of the offence. The one time he'd told Bruce a joke, mid-laugh, he had felt the painful impact of a wooden spoon to his cheek. The times he used a coin to decide on something, the palm of his hand had been smacked with a ruler. When Bruce found out that Derek had ignored him and read Alice in Wonderland with the rest of his class, his back had been sore for days after becoming very familiar with Bruce's belt. He was currently enrolled in his school's psychology course and he knew what to expect when he came home every day.

He winced as he sat at his desk, the welts becoming more agitated by the minute. Sighing and resigning himself to not finding a comfortable position, he finished off his lunch and pulled the paper towards him. The front page headline caused him to start banging his fist on his chest as he nearly chocked.

Scarecrow captured: Safety of patients in Arkham questioned.

The article went on to say how an inside source had leaked information that led to the belief that the new head of security, Lyle Bolton, was abusing patients. He knew that outside of being an empathetic human being and wanting to there to be no need for violence, he shouldn't be worried. But he was, deeply worried. His breathing had become sharp pants and his hands shook. He heard the door slam shut, alerting him to Bruce's return and what was about to happen, but he was frozen, his mind lost in a deep fog. He stood shakily and stumbled back towards his bed. One hand gripped the footboard for support as all strength seemed to suddenly leave him while the other pressed to his stomach which was now rejecting his meal. The corner of his mouth twitched and, as the door opened, he looked up at Bruce in a jerky fashion. He knew not to expect any kind of pity but he had hoped that Bruce would at least leave him alone to calm down. He was wrong. The brutal backhand sent him back onto the bed and he kicked and squirmed to get away as Bruce made short work of his pants and boxers. The first strike from the polished riding crop sent a wave of painful heat through his rear and a humiliated heat through his cheeks. His gasps for air became more ragged with every strike of the riding crop until his vision began to swim and darken. Immediately after the last strike, he surrendered to the darkness.

He was walking yet falling. He tried to grasp at the plant steams that sprouted from the walls around him but they recoiled angrily at his touch. He tried to cling to a rubix cube whose squares had all been coloured black but his hands simply slid down the slick surface.

'_And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting on the palled bust of Pallas just above my chamber door_.' Derek looked about for the speaker. It was the same voice that he had heard earlier and yet, there was still no one there. A soft tickling sound drew his attention to the suddenly present jack-in-the-box that seemed to be winding itself. The clown that sprang forth was anything but childish. The wild green hair and blood red smile terrified him into fleeing in the opposite direction.

'_And his eyes have all the seeing of a demon's that is dreaming and the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor_.' He ran until he came face to face with a door. A door that, not a second ago, had not been there. A door with a 10/6 sign carved into it. He opened it cautiously and took a step inside, then another. The door slammed shut as a monstrous black crow flew in after him. The candles in the room lit themselves as the crow landed on the frame of an old, gothic mirror.

'_And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted Nevermore_.' He stepped up to the mirror but instead of himself, he saw what might have been his brother. His face and body shape were the same but his hair was darker and had a blue tint to it and his eyes were golden green. The mirror image placed his hands on the mirror before raking his nails down it savagely.

"Let me out!" Derek jumped backwards but for some reason could not run. "You locked me in here now let me out!" Derek slowly inched his way back to the sleek surface.

"What for?" It seemed like a dumb question to ask but that was all that would come out of his mouth. The other snarled at his lack of action.

"They need me and I want to go home!" Feeling a little braver, Derek took another step towards the mirror.

"Where's home and who are they?"

"Arkham you little idiot and they being the Rogue gallery, my _family_. You tricked me into this now I want out." The mirror image shoulders slumped and he looked up with a tired expression. "I want to go home." He held out a shaking hand. Derek sighed seeming to realize what was going on.

"But Bruce was our chance for a normal life." The mirror image pressed both hands to the mirror with a pleading expression.

"We never wanted that. He's a horrible person under that pleasant façade. Please, let me go home. I really don't care if you stick around or not. No matter what though I won't let them keep suffering." Derek smiled.

"You go. I've seen what I wanted to see." Derek reached through the mirror and pulled the other through.

"You're not going to stay at all?" Derek shook his head.

"I was created on your thoughts of what could have happened if you had lived a normal life and your unconscious desire for that. I was created to live out that dream and, to an extent, I have and neither of us was very pleased with it. So this is goodbye…Thorn." Thorn smiled sadly even as he felt his eyelids grow heavy. He jerked awake and looked around the tastefully decorated room. It was dark, the clock saying it was nearing on 2 am but he had plans to work out. It was time for a long over due reunion.


	8. Chapter 8

**Alright everybody until the 3****rd**** of January so I figured why not get another chapter out to my lovely readers. This chapter is almost all filler since I didn't want to shove things along too fast. Obviously I won't be writing on Christmas so Happy Holidays to everyone and I'll see you all in the new year.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman: the animated series or Animaniacs **

Thorn smirked as the rest of the class unconsciously trembled under Arkham's chilling shadow. It hadn't taken much to convince the teacher that the final class trip should be to the infamous Arkham asylum. A little bit of nudging with hypnotic suggestion and she had followed his plan to the letter. He would have to thank Jervis and Jonathon for the lessons. The little tour would allow him to re-familiarize himself with the layout of building as well as learn where the guards were stationed with this new security plan. Speaking of security, Thorn narrowed his eyes at the guard that had come to meet the class. The weak sunlight, the first Gotham had seen in days, joyfully bounced off the polished name tag that read Bolton in simple black letters. Figures that he would be the one to fill all the minds of the immature ingrates that made up the rest of the class with rubbish out how they inmates deserved their treatment. They followed Bolton in, the rest of the class partaking in the mindless chatter about what they were doing for the summer break, who was cheating on who with whom, and _my god make it stop_. Blocking out the conversations around him, Thorn carefully made his way up the front until he was standing directly behind Bolton. It wouldn't take much; just a good whack to the back of the head with his book bag and the cretin would drop like a rock. He was about to go through with it when he took a good look around. The element of surprise would last for a maximum of three seconds, not nearly long enough to take out all these witnesses. He ground his teeth and, after a deep breath, settled back to observe. The tour itself was rather boring, neither he nor the rest of the class had any interest in the residents of A or B blocks. No, the real prize was through the double doors at the end of the hall. None the less, Thorn memorized the layout of the two other blocks just in case a quick detour had to be made. He considered himself quite lucky to have spotted a guard taking a personal item into the storage closet and mentally filed away its location. Everything was going perfectly according to plan and Thorn could feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards as they stepped just inside those double doors.

Every inmate located on C block flinched at retreated to the far corner of their cells as the sound of their tormentor rang down the hall.

"Alright this is what you've all been waiting for. Welcome it C block home of the Rogue gallery, the ones who were just born disgraces to the human race. Now while we're down here there will be none of this foolishness. Are we clear?" Edward couldn't help himself and, smirking, whispered just loud enough for the other Rogues to here.

"No we're opaque." The others, even Jonathon, cracked small smiles at the memory of the little boy that they had all grown very fond of.

"No, we're opaque." Every single member of the gallery rushed to the front of their cells and peered down the hall in shock and careful hope. There was just no way that he was here but sure enough, at the end of the hall and almost hidden behind Bolton's towering frame, was Thorn, arms crossed over his chest and wearing a smirk that looked eerily like Harley's. His golden eyes narrowed at the sight that greeted him; a riddle master with a broken leg, a scarecrow with fractured ribs, a hatter with a broken nose, and more bruises than he could count. He didn't want to delve too deeply into the reason why all of them were sporting a stiff form and slight limp though the way Bolton eyed them all up and down gave him a pretty good idea. "Is this particular method of management certified?" Bolton took a menacing step towards Thorn, scowl in place and hands bawled into fists. Pam and Harley gasped while the others could only watch with wide eyes.

"Shut up all of you!" The quiet chatter that had started at Thorn's statement died down. "I will not be told how to do _**my**_ job by a bunch of little kids!" Out of the corner of his eye, Thorn noticed a couple more guards leaving the Joker's cell with some things that he'd managed to sneak inside including: a toy cap gun, his set of playing cards, and a banana cream pie. Thorn briefly questioned how Joker had snuck a pie inside but quickly dismissed it. Like most people, he had long given up on trying to figure out how Joker did the things he did. Instead he smirked up at Bolton.

"We protest you calling us little kids. We prefer to be called vertically impaired pre-adults." Bolton seized the front of Thorn's shirt, his cheeks colouring as soft snickers echoed all the way down the hall.

"I'll call you whatever I want! I'm the security guard!" Thorn just turned up his nose and discreetly moved to place his feet on the edges of Bolton's pant legs.

"We protest you calling yourself a security guard. You should be referred to as the pastry enhanced." The look of rage on Bolton's face was replaced with one of confusion while the Rogues, especially Joker, looked on in barely concealed excitement.

"Pastry enhanced? I don't get it." Thorn's smirk widened.

"You will." With a rough shove to Bolton's shoulders, Thorn put all of his weight on Bolton's pant leg. There was a loud ripping sound as Bolton stumbled backwards, knocking into the guard carrying the confiscated items and falling face down on the floor, right into the pie. There were hoots of laughter all down the hall as Bolton picked himself back up.

"Shut up you bunch of freaks!" While they knew it would probably get them in a lot of trouble with the guard, the Rogues could only keep laughing as the man spun in circles, glaring at them through a mask of whip cream and banana filling. Thorn bowed first to the gallery, then to his giggling classmates.

"Thank you ladies and gentlemen, I'll be here all night." With a quick wink to his family, he followed his class out the doors.


	9. Chapter 9

**Ah I've missed you all so much ^_^ I apologize for the long wait, I certainly didn't mean for it to be that long but I've had my hands full settling back into the grove of college after winter vacations. That and I went to see The Hobbit and…your beloved author is obsessed. For almost the entire month, anything Hobbit related has been constantly circling my thoughts. It still is but I could finally shove it into one corner and write!**

Thorn frowned at the plans in front of him. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that a mass break out wouldn't be a smart move. He simply wasn't comfortable enough with his skills to attempt it and besides, where could he hide them all safely while still keeping them happy? No, that was definitely out of the question. He could, however, get rid of a rather obnoxious thorn in their sides, if one could excuse the pun. Getting rid of Bolton seemed to be the only thing he could do at that point in time, so now to plan how he would do it and it was at times like these that he wished genius operations seemed to come to him as easily as the Joker. He glared at the harshly scribbled out plans that littered the pages in front of him, each one seeming to mock him with his apparent stupidity.

_'Why don't you just turn on the bat signal while you're at it?_' His eyes widened. That was it! A wolfish grin broke out across his face and he hastily scribbled his plan down on the only white space of paper left. Why should he have to do all the work, when the very system that would try to lock him up could do it for him? He slipped into the soft yet warm costume and sat down in front of the video camera. By this time tomorrow he'd have all of Gotham's attention.

The members of the Rogue gallery slunk through the doors leading to the rec room one by one. Ever since Thorn's sudden re-appearance, nostalgia had over taken the group leading to long periods of silent reflection. As each one passed through the double doors, they remembered the fateful day that those doors had been slammed open to reveal a small boy in clothes way too large for him. Every day after his departure, hoping to be the one to spot him but ten years was a long time to hold fast to a dream and soon they had stopped looking, stopped dreaming, and stopped hoping. That day, however, they each had scanned the room with desperate hope yet sickening dread. One by one they flocked to the couches before the T.V., which would now only ever play the news, and sat down gingerly, with the exception of the Joker. No one, not even Bolton, was brave enough to try anything with the Crown Prince of Crime. He wouldn't live through the experience. Harley leaned heavily against Joker's shoulder and he turned his head slightly to press his cheek to her forehead. Despite popular opinion, he did care for her, in his own twisted way. It might not have always been the most conventional of relationships but he was an unconventional guy. He surveyed his fellow Rouges that had been warped into this twisted version of a family all thanks to one little boy. They all looked drained, emotionally and physically, and almost lost. He was sure that the same emotions occasionally flickered across his face when his walls briefly fell at times and he quickly decided that he hated this feeling. No matter what way he looked at it, he couldn't stomach the thought of Thorn anywhere else other than where he could protect him. He, along with the others, raised his eyes listlessly as the afternoon news began to play and the top story made them all sit up a little straighter and their blood run ice cold. There was the bat signal or what it used to be. The image on the screen was a mass of tangled metal, sparking wires, and glass fragments. Off to the side was a single security guard, who had apparently come to investigate all the noise, with his throat ripped out. The chill however, came from what was written, painfully obviously in blood, on the wall behind the mess.

_**Catch Me If You Can, Batsy!**_

Batman's eyes narrowed as he, now under the cover of darkness, surveyed the wreck left for him. The body had been removed but everything else had been left alone for him. They needn't have bothered. Whoever had done this had clearly wanted to make a statement, he doubted very much that they wanted to be caught before it was made, and, as he looked down at the tape wrapped in an evidence bag, he had a feeling he was going to find out what that was in the very near future. The drive back to the bat cave was tense and even Robin's bantering wouldn't change that. The tape of course had been wiped clean and was unmarked. They both expected to see the face of the Joker or maybe Riddler pop up on the screen so they were immensely surprised to see a new face, so to speak. The person's face was in fact hidden by a large black hood that swept down to his nose. Careful cuts had been made to show a pair of yellow eyes and, what looked to be large pointed ears were standing up right at the top of the hood. The hood itself had been attached to a long cloak that was swept back over the person's broad shoulders. He wore a shirt, midnight blue in colour that was itself rather long, ending at his knees and being tied off tightly at the waist by a black belt. The shirt's looseness ceased at his elbows where black fabric had been wrapped tightly from there down to his knuckles. The pants were the same colour as the shirt and ceased their looseness at mid-shin where they disappeared into a pair of black boots. He gave a wolfish grin to the camera before addressing it.

"So it's finally time to address the caped crusader. Wolf bane's the name and the hunt's the game. That's what I'm inviting you on batsy." Batman's eyes narrowed at the nickname. "A kind of scavenger hunt if you will. I've placed clues for you at several locations across Gotham. What's in it for you, you might ask. Well there's a handful of hostages that would like your help and, at the end, you'll be able to lock away the man that caused their pain. I suppose though you want your first clue so here it is:

_Old fat spider spinning in a tree!_

_Old fat spider can't see me!_

_Attercop! Attercop!_

_Won't you stop,_

_Stop your spinning and look for me!_

_Old Tomnoddy, all big body,_

_Old Tomnoddy can't spy me!_

_Attercop! Attercop!_

_Down you drop!_

_You'll never catch me up your tree!_

_Lazy Lob and crazy Cob_

_are weaving webs to wind me._

_I am far more sweet than other meat,_

_but still they cannot find me!_

_Here am I, naughty little fly;_

_you are fat and lazy._

_You cannot trap me, though you try,_

_in your cobwebs crazy."_

With another grin, the screen turned black leaving the two to worry over this new threat.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello! I know. I've been gone a long time without updating for you guys and when I do it's so short. I really don't deserve any of you but I promise I'm trying to get them up as fast as I can.**

Batman and Robin stared at the black screen thoughtfully. The clue that this Wolf Bane had given was creating more questions than answers, though none of them centering on the clue itself. The way he had sought out Batman to deliver a clue, as if crime was nothing more than a battle of wits, was very Riddler like. The poem, though neither could place it, was obviously from some sort of literature which almost screamed of the Mad Hatter. The questions then turned to the poem itself. Clearly this new threat had hostages and whatever morals he possessed was allowing him to offer them a fair chance at freedom. Batman's eyes narrowed. Wolf's Bane had not outright indicated that he was the one holding these people prisoner and there was something underneath that taunting tone that bothered him. He mentally shook himself. Now was not the time to be debating about a criminal's morals. Whatever the risk he had to play this game to save whatever innocent people had been roped into it. He carefully recited the poem in his head, looking for any kind of hint that might lead him to the next clue. Beside him, Robin snapped his fingers suddenly.

"The Hobbit." Batman gave him a questioning look and Robin smiled. "The poem is from the Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien. I'm surprised you didn't figure it out. Bruce. After all, that boy of yours did a paper for his entrance to Gotham University on the comparison of old writers to new ones. Tolkien was the one he focused on the most for the old writer and he had a field day bashing today's writers since they are all, and I quote, ' over-hyped, over-glamourized, over-rated, over-dramatized pieces of crap'. After reading it, I took a look at some of the writers that he talked about. I finished the Hobbit okay but I could not wrap my head around the Lord of the Rings." Batman made no comment on the child in his care for it brought up uncomfortable emotions. He knew that the way he treated the boy was cruel and every night he would lay in bed, appalled at his behaviour. Every morning he would look at himself in the mirror with disgust and vow to make it up to Thorn, or Derek as he had been redubbed but something in him couldn't get over the simple fact that the boy had been exposed to the Rogue gallery. Whenever he looked at the boy, he saw something dark glinting in those eyes just beyond the surface shrouded in a smoky black veil. He caught brief glimpses of it in the actions that seemed like extensions of the Rogues. Worst of all was that, every time he caught those glimpses, he was reminded of himself. Reminded of how closely he walked along the line of right and wrong, and just how often he crossed it. Shaking his head to clear the thoughts from his mind, he stood and gestured to Robin to follow him. He would worry about the boy later, after all, with how harsh Batman was to him, it's not like he would ever do anything of any real concern.

As the duo crept into the library, they were greeted by the smell of dust and old books. The pale and weak moonlight threw a few slivers of light along the towering shelves but most of the room remained cloaked in shadows. Perfect for someone like the Batman to sneak around. Finding the book proved more than a little challenging as someone had moved it to the checkout desk. Flipping through the pages, he easily found the poem and watched as a small piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Carefully unfolding it to observe the hidden message, Batman's eyes narrowed.

Soft and fragile is my skin

I get my growth in mud

I'm dangerous as much as pretty

For if not careful, I draw blood.

**Well can you guess where the next clue is hidden?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Finally my first year of college is over; mind you with how hard I got slammed it was still far too long, so these chapters should be coming out a lot faster. I had to make the clue a little harder this time since EVERYONE who guessed at the last one got it right. Care to try your hand again? **

Gotham's new rose garden was dark and still damp from the evening watering. With every step the crime fighting duo took, the mud seemed bent on capturing their feet. Roses were bursting in colors of red, white, yellow, pink, and a rare blackish purple. With every flower they pushed out of their path, thorns would slice through fabric and flesh and blood were further water the plants.

Pam sighed and rested her head against the glass wall of her cell. She fidgeted with the potted plant in her hands absentmindedly. It was the blackish purple rose plant that she had helped Thorn plant and care for.

_"Is this right?" Pam walked across the cell to stand behind Thorn and observe his work._

_ "That's perfect honey. Now don't forget to water it." She placed the small plastic watering can on the work table._

_ "Don't worry, I won't." Thorn hummed while he continued to pat some of the dirt down and gently swung his feet back and forth. After she heard the sound of a much lighter watering can being replaced on the table, Pam decided to breech the question that she had been mulling over for a while._

_ "You never told me why you wanted to plant a rose in particular." Thorn looked up at her, dirt smudged over his nose and cheek. _

_ "Because it's just like us." Pam raised an eyebrow in the signal for him to continue explaining. "You're really pretty and nice, like a flower, but you're always getting shoved around and stepped on, especially by the Batman." Pam couldn't help but scowl a little at the description. She was NOT shoved around and stepped on, thank you very much. She wasn't some doormat like Harley, but…there were times when she couldn't deny that it felt like every single one of those doctors and lawyers and judges were trying to control her. She supposed that this was as close to a description of that as she was going to get from Thorn, at this age anyway. "So, when I get bigger, I'm gonna be just like these thorns and make sure that nobody can step on you again." Faced with that smile, she didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise. _

The next clue was wedged onto one of the thorns of the purple roses and the obtaining of it caused quite a few scratches.

_I never said getting these clues would be easy or without sacrifice did I?_ Batman scowled at the cheeky tone. _I suppose you want your next clue but, the jokes on you since I really couldn't think of anything to properly hint at this side stitching place. Oh well, I'm sure you'll figure it out. The hostages want you to hurry though. Tick tock, tick tock._


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello all! I'm sorry for the delay but I just wasn't happy with this chapter for a while. Anyway I own nothing blah blah blah. Enjoy!**

* * *

Batman scowled, the clue crumpled in his fist. Of all the dirty tricks! To lead them on with false hope only to laugh in their faces later. He tossed the clue to the ground and, with a flourish of his black cape, stormed out of the garden. Robin looked after him with worry causing his forehead to crease. With a sigh, he snatched the clue from the muddy ground before it could soil completely and sprinted after the caped crusader.

Robin perched silently on the ledge of an apartment complex, his thoughts divided equally between the clue and the odd way that Batman had been acting as of late. He had become much more quick to anger and impulsive. He also seemed to no longer care about treating criminals humanely. Sure Batman had never refused to resort to violence if it helped to keep innocent people safe, but he had never been outright cruel. The more Robin thought about it, the more he realized that these changes had grown over the ten years that the kid from Arkham had been in his care. Could the boy have somehow brainwashed him or something. Absentmindedly, Robin began to slowly unfold the clue. As he smoothed out the creases, a gust of wind blew by, carrying something that made his nose itch. His hand flew to his face as he sneezed and, upon withdrawing it; he noticed black smudge marks marring it. Looking down at the clue, he saw that the words were printed in black ink, long having dried. So where had the smudge come from? Flipping the paper over, he noticed smudges along the bottom corner of the paper. His shoulders slumped in despair. He had hoped that their enemy would have taken a little bit of pity on them and written a better clue on the back. Finally accepting that the clue was a dead end and resigning himself to help Batman scour the whole city, he prepared to toss the clue to the wind when something caught his eye. Tilting his head slightly, Robin studied the marks a little more closely. At just the right angle it looked like a word.

* * *

Batman and Robin stared anxiously at the computer screen, praying that it could somehow identify the word hidden among the soot. At beeping noise sounded and the computer pulled up an image of the soot being stripped away to reveal the word: Carnival.

"Alfred." The butler looked up from where he was placing down a tray off food and tea for the duo.

"Yes Master Bruce." He approached the computer.

"Do you know anything about a carnival that may have suffered a fire?" Alfred thought quietly for a few moments while the two waited with baited breath.

"Indeed I do sir. It's on the outskirts of the narrows. It was abandoned after several children were kidnapped and killed there. Parents of the children cornered the staff on one of the rides which they lit on fire. If you are going there sir, might I suggest something for a dreamless sleep."

* * *

The gate swung back and forth with an eerie shriek whenever the wind picked up. A few of the signs had been turned on and the aging yellow and red lights flickered occasionally. Stuffed animals littered the walkways, filthy and tattered. Rotted food sent off a horrid smell and Robin had to force himself not to vomit when they came across one such maggot infested stand. Games that had offered goldfish as the prize had rows of murky fishbowls full of slimy green water and bloated fish corpses littering the bottoms of each bowl. The once bright banners had faded to mockeries of their former colors and flapped listlessly in the wind.

Batman and Robin finally stopped as they reached a circle with a single form in it, slouched in a chair. Resting on its lifeless hands was the next clue. The two approached cautiously, Batman ready for any kind of attack while Robin reached forward to grab the clue. As soon as his fingers closed on it, the figure came to live with a scream. Crying out in surprise, Robin fell backwards and Batman lunged forward to punch it. The figure fell to the side, and the two realized that it was nothing more than a clown puppet, held up slightly by strings that made its arms jerk. Breathing heavily, Robin opened the clue.

_Isn't this place something? Like the stuff nightmares are made of. Some in this city see you as the ender of the nightmares while others see you as their creator. Which do you find more satisfying I wonder? Currently I reside in a place where nightmares are the reality. I waiting for you Batman, in the very place that you would see me confined. _


End file.
